By a God's Grace
by CrystallicSky
Summary: The story of a warrior named Chenglei Long and the heavenly deity that favors him. AU, CHACK
1. Death

**By a God's Grace**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Only violence, gore, and sexual implications for this chapter.**

**--  
**

It was indisputably a gorgeous day.

Sun shining, birds chirping, the sound of water from a nearby spring flowing. The very _sight_ of such a lovely day would have men in the town miles away from this particular spot upon the trail grinning as they went to work in their fields and women sighing as they observed the romantic beauty of such a day. Children ran outside to play in euphoric glee, their innocent laughter bubbling up and down the little village's streets.

Surely, one couldn't _ask_ for a better day to be beaten to death.

Chenglei Long was a warrior and a damn good one, at that. His strength and skill were legendary: it was rumored that he had once leveled a mountain with a single punch, decimated and army of a thousand with one kick, and parted a flood around a village with a dirty look.

…Of course, it was to expected that at least _some_ of the rumors were over-exaggerated, but the large majority of gossip upon the man's heroic and celebrated accomplishments was true, and Chenglei was widely-known as an opponent without match.

It was because of that the warrior was summoned to the palace, before Emperor Jingguo himself and gifted with a task of utmost importance: the assassination of a political rival causing a good deal of trouble for the ruler.

Chenglei had duly agreed to the task foisted upon him for it was given by his Emperor and besides the matter of honor in accepting it, the Emperor paid _very_ handsomely and the famed warrior most often possessed only what money he could carry on his person (his eminence was not the type to be maintained by settling down somewhere, after all, and he had consequently chosen a more nomadic lifestyle).

The assignment was carried out with little trouble and within twenty-four hours of being given the mission, the political rival was dead by Chenglei's hand; with no evidence as to who had ended his life or for what purpose.

The trouble arose when, after the warrior's payment in the form of a large sum of gold, one of the Emperor's favorite consorts took an interest in the man her lord and master had hired.

Said lord and master was not a handsome man by _anyone's_ standards: he was short and of a stocky build, oft compared to a _bean_ for the baldness of his head and the seemingly perpetual slump of his body (though this comparison was never made to his face, lest one lusted for the feel of a blade relieving their shoulders from the burden of their head). His skin was dark and his eyes a sickly yellow, and it was doubtless that his harem loathed every minute of copulation with someone so physically unattractive.

It had even gotten around that the Emperor didn't even have a well-endowed status going for him, but all were sure that the first concubine to have let such information get out was by now executed.

Chenglei Long, on the other hand, was a _stark_ comparison to his Emperor. He was tall and lean, an aesthetically pleasing form only complimented by the length of his thick, dark locks and the masculine beauty of his face. His flesh was as if gilded, a dusky golden color that matched with his glimmering, sun-like eyes in a way that had any woman with a heartbeat (and even several men) mooning and swooning over him with no more than a disinterested sidelong glance.

And of course, if the tales spread by those that _were_ lucky enough to share the bed of the infamous warrior were accurate, he was _certainly_ a joy to have for _any_ lover.

The favored whore took interest in the beautiful man her master had hired and, when he'd been about to leave, the sly Wuya suggested to Emperor Jingguo that Chenglei most surely deserved _further_ reward for his valiant efforts in completing the task set before him and offered herself for one night as a prize for the man.

Chenglei had considered her words for a moment, looked her up and down once, sneered dismissively and turned the offer down flat, choosing instead to take his money and leave.

Wuya was naturally furious at such a callous refusal. She was admittedly an older woman, certainly no pretty young thing that was the talk of the town, but she had _talent_! She was concubine to the _Emperor_ for gods' sakes: if she could manage a false peak in bed with such an unattractive thing as Jingguo, then she could do _anything_, and yet here this man was, refusing her without even so much as a mask of politeness!

The whore was conniving. She was the Emperor's favorite and had long ago learned how to get her way, and so soon after Chenglei had left the palace, she took her master to bed with her. As he made love to her, she sighed sadly and whined pathetically about how _mean_ the warrior had been to her; how _worthless_ he'd made her feel when he'd rejected her. Jingguo, hating to see his favorite unhappy, had tried to soothe his consort in the only way he knew how: offering her jewelry and money and material things.

Wuya was pleased with all of these gifts, of course, greedy woman that she was, but she refused to let herself be appeased. For days, she kept up her façade of depression and dejection, moping listlessly about the palace until finally, it became too much for the Emperor.

"What will make you happy, my Wuya?" he at last demanded in exasperation.

She had answered but one thing: "The death of Chenglei Long."

It was a difficult request: whether or not the majority of the rumors circulating of the warrior's strength were fabricated, he was still a powerful adversary; the type of man _anyone_ would most rather have as an ally. He had so quickly and quietly killed the Emperor's rival, after all, without leaving so much as a trace of evidence behind.

It was very much conceivable that, if _forced_ into the position of enemy, Chenglei could _easily_ see to it that Jingguo met a similar fate.

Still, Emperor Jingguo _was_, indeed _Emperor_ Jingguo and had millions of soldiers at his disposal to do with as he pleased. To cease his favorite's moping, he ordered nearly a _thousand_ men to seek out the legendary warrior and make absolutely sure his life was ended.

In reality, it likely would've only taken three _hundred_ men to do the job, but the Emperor was big on caution and subscribed to the theory that 'too much' was better than 'not enough.'

The men were sent off and not far from the small, secluded village of Shanqing, they happened upon their target.

Chenglei, as to be expected of one so fearless and strong, fought valiantly and felled many of the men before he was at last caught unaware by a dao in the back.

Already dying, the sword-wound having been fatal, the soldiers remembered their lord's specific orders to be _sure_ of Chenglei's death and instead of simply allowing the warrior to die peacefully, the men handled him brutally.

Every man who still stood thrust their blades into his body, slicing through his golden skin and drawing ruby-red rivers of blood. They used their fists and feet to bruise and to crack his sturdy bones in such a way that would have crippled him for life had he lived. A butterfly sword blinded the eye that hadn't swollen shut from the barrage of punches, even as its twin was used to cruelly and unnecessarily shear off the lengthy, obsidian hair of which the warrior was so proud. Some of the soldiers spit upon the poor man's broken and bleeding body before, as if the final touch, their commander brought one heavy boot down upon the man's once-handsome face; cracking his nose, dislodging his teeth, and marring his features beyond all recognition.

Chenglei Long, defeated, dishonored, and disgraced, died then and there upon the dirt road, alone and defenseless.

The soldiers had accomplished their objective: the mighty and legendary warrior was dead at the Emperor's request. They sheathed their swords (without bothering to clean them of their conquered victim's blood, so as to show their lord solid proof of their deed) and properly honored their fallen brethren with funeral rites before attending to Chenglei's corpse. They kicked his lifeless body over to the side of the road, into the forest where the animals would rid the world of his remains and promptly left.

Little did they know, of course, that Chenglei Long's death was only the beginning…

--

**A/N: As you can see, I've started a new multi-chaptered story. Lucky for all of you, it's already finished, so you won't have to worry about long waits in between chapter-updates. ;P**

**All I have to say other than that? This is an AU-Chack, set in Ancient China; the rest you should be able to figure out on your own.**

**Be on the lookout for other chapters; they'll be coming _fairly_ soon. :D**


	2. Rebirth

**By a God's Grace  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Gore, language, and homosexuality.**

**--  
**

Chenglei felt his consciousness haze back into being an indeterminable amount of time later.

He was not alive: he could not feel his heart beating and the flow of blood through his body, which had in life kept him warm, had ceased; his form left to grow cold. Of course, he couldn't _feel_ how cold he surely must be, so it was a moot point. He could not open his eyes or move under his own power anymore, and his lungs failed to draw breath instinctively.

Surely, the warrior thought to himself with a chilling certainty, this was Death.

It was unlike anything he'd been expecting, but then again, what _had_ he been expecting? He was never all that concerned with religion, but he knew of several fates-after-death that religions subscribed to, and of all the ones he knew, this wasn't any of them. Most of these scenarios involved reincarnation or the Three Realms concept, at the least. This…

This was nothingness.

Perhaps it was simply because he didn't really practice a religion that he was subject to this nonexistence? It would make sense, he supposed. But that wasn't to say he didn't _believe_ in the gods, though, of _course_ he did! He just didn't much concern himself with them when there were so many more pressing matters to attend to in the earthly word.

It was difficult to find time to thank the heavenly deities when you so often had enemies looking to make a name for themselves breathing down your back and had to do hard labor just to earn a night's stay somewhere for lack of money. Thankfully, that was over now: he had _plenty_ of mo-…

Oh. Right. He was dead. It was going to take some time to get used to _that_.

Chenglei took a brief moment to wonder further about this particular brand of death he was experiencing. Why could he still think if the rest of his body so failed to function? Just where _was_ he? What had decided he should be dead in _this_ particular way and not be reborn as a…a tiger or something?

Goodness, this was confusing.

His musings were very suddenly interrupted by an unexpected flood of _pain_ throughout every inch of his body, setting his nerves ablaze and making him want to _scream_ in agony.

Chenglei did.

…And was very abruptly caught by the question of, 'How could he scream if he couldn't have so much as _moved_ earlier?'

The warrior did a brief self-analysis and was stunned beyond all reason to find that he felt his heart beating behind his ribs, his lungs once more expanding with air. He could _feel_ with shocking clarity _everything_ happening in and around his body: he was cold as _ice_, and good _gods_ did everything _hurt!_

Chenglei was beginning to miss the empty numbness in light of this new sensation.

Writhing in his own private world of pain, the sort of suffering that he should've been spared through his death, the warrior was admittedly surprised to feel soft, warm, and very _real_ hands laying upon his body.

He jerked roughly at the touch, attempting to drive whoever it was away but not having the presence of mind or ability of body to execute the debilitating palm-strike his mind had wanted him to.

"Easy, now," a voice spoke to him, low and so strangely _soothing_ that each and every one of Chenglei's muscles relaxed. "You're pretty damaged…" Whoever was touching him seemed to pause, as if inspecting the full extent of said damage. "Yeesh…yeah, 'pretty damaged' isn't even the _half_ of it…"

_That_ little comment made the warrior miserable, hearing the disgust and pitying sympathy in the stranger's voice at merely looking at him. It meant that he was too repulsive to even be seen; was too abhorrent for someone to bear the sight of. Those soldiers had crippled him, destroyed his body and his face-…his face…

Oh, gods, he must be _hideous_ now! He could feel from the painful throb that his face was swollen from the barrage of fists and he just _knew_ his nose had been cracked in that final boot-stomp. A brief swipe of his tongue along the inside of his mouth and his lips told him that said lip was split in several places and swollen and that he had a grand total of four teeth left.

Chenglei Long, the most infamous and feared warrior in China, made a sound he hadn't made in many, many years: a piteous whimper.

Immediately, the voice hushed him, pulling his head to rest in a comfortably warm lap. In doing this, the man was reminded of the fact that his hair was now barely the length of an infant's pinky finger, a fact which only upset him more. "Shhhh," the voice quieted him again, "relax… You're gonna be just fine, I promise: I'll help you."

The man quieted at that. _How?_ How could this person help him? He was…he was…

_Ruined._

Before he could further question anything, one of those soft hands found its way to the warrior's sliced up and bloodied chest, the pad of a thumb pressing lightly to the edge of one of the largest gouges.

"Just so you know," the voice cautioned him, "this is gonna hurt. A _lot."_

With no further warning than that, the thumb pressed down, hooking _into_ the wound.

Chenglei screamed once more at the excruciating sensation, further disconcerted to feel it moving down the length of the open slice.

Holy _hells_, that was…Why was it no longer painful?

Yes, it seemed that as the thumb swept through, the pain just…_disappeared…_

…who _was_ this person?

In what seemed to be no time at all, the thumb had coursed the wound entirely and removed itself from the warrior's flesh. Then the hand it was attached to felt along it…

…or more accurately, where it'd _been,_ for the gouge was quite literally _gone,_ and the stranger's hand merely brushed over smooth, flawless muscle and skin.

To be able to do such a thing…this person was _not_ human.

"There now," the god or demon or _whatever_ it was brightly chirped, "one down, eight-hundred-and-seventy-six to go!"

And so it went for quite some time, Chenglei's surface wounds being healed one by one as the benevolent entity counted them off. There was pain, of course, but he was a warrior: exposed to the same sort of pain over a long period of time, he could grow used to it, and this was no different.

He hadn't even been aware of the fact that his body was cleared of all cuts and that his flesh was once more the perfect, unmarred gold it once was until the voice declared, "And that's the last one! Good thing, too; I'd hate to see _your_ gorgeous skin all fucked up by scars." Two hands pressed flat to the man's broad chest; soft and slender hands that were surprising when compared to the very obviously _male_ voice. Men were supposed to have bigger, rougher hands than that, and yet these were soft and…perfect.

A tingle shot through the man's entire abdomen, stemming from the hands and pulling a startled gasp from him. The tingle rippled through his body for a bit, easing away aches and sharp twinges that had been bothering and hurting the warrior from the inside.

"That should take care of the internal injuries," the voice informed him. "It's certainly much better for all parties involved if your liver remains _un_punctured by your ribs, I think."

Chenglei tried to answer, for the first time attempting speech towards this munificent thing now that his entire body no longer shrieked with agony. He found he couldn't. As frustrating as it seemed, he could gasp and grunt and even _scream_, but when he tried to form words, his vocal cords locked up and refused to work properly.

Very much how, even though the worst of his wounds were healed, he couldn't so much as _attempt_ movement.

"Moving right along, how about we fix those broken bones next?"

Chenglei knew _this_ would be painful, almost assuredly even more so than the reparation of his skin. It took cuts and flesh wounds far less time to heal than it took bones to mend, and to rush that process would _definitely_ hurt. He also knew for a fact that he had a _lot_ of broken bones.

But, the pain was not without reason: he could tolerate it if it meant he could someday move again.

The being allowed him enough control of himself to nod his head once in agreement and the warrior was met with the reply of, "Good; you _are_ one hell of a trooper. I could've given you a break if you'd wanted, but…it probably _is_ better to do it all in one go instead of prolonging the suffering. You've had _plenty_ of that, I bet."

Oh, wouldn't Chenglei agree with _that_ perfectly correct statement? But no, he would not retract his decision, nor did he regret it.

He wanted to be _un_broken and he wanted to be unbroken _now._

The man offered no protest when those soft, warm hands took secure hold of his twisted and fractured arm and in one deft motion, _cracked_ it back into perfect condition.

He grunted at the intense ripple of pain the action caused, his jaw clenching as the being moved onto his ruined hand and fingers and did the same to them. He was almost _glad_ of the fact that there were only four teeth in his skull, else he would've doubtless bitten his tongue off!

The other arm was much easier to bear now that he'd had a taste of precisely the type of pain mending bones caused (not to mention the fact that his right arm, unlike the left, was _not_ dislocated at the rotator cuff and elbow).

The legs were only a bit harder to endure. The soldiers hadn't broken his feet as they'd done to his hands, but several important ligaments had been skewered in his knees and the shin of his right leg was little more than powder due to the many times it'd been stomped upon by his attackers.

A break near the base of his spine was handily undone and the warrior was pleased to find he could _feel_ the rest of him below his pelvis.

For the first time since he'd been ambushed, brutally beaten, and killed, Chenglei Long felt more…_himself_.

Not quite, of course: his beautiful and handsome face of which men and women throughout China daydreamed was still battered and disfigured.

It crossed his mind that perhaps something like that would be his punishment for some sort of wrong he did in life: he would be put through excruciating pain and suffering, put through it _again_ in undoing the damage, and then forced to _live_ with his once-gorgeous face marred beyond recognition as some test of his humility.

To be completely honest, Chenglei would be alright with that. Not _happy,_ certainly, but life as a hideous outcast was better than death as a handsome man.

Still, he doubted that this…god or devil or mystical being; whatever he happened to be would do such a thing to him. By his words, he bore no ill will towards the warrior: he'd healed him, _warned_ him to expect pain, and had spoken to him with a warm sympathy that just _could not_ have come from someone that wished him to suffer.

Chenglei had faith in this being to undo the damage that'd been done to his face, just as he'd done to the rest of the man's body.

As if on cue, warm hands cupped his cheeks and the voice, low and heavy with sorrow, murmured, "Look what those bastards did to your poor face…what a shame…" There was a brief pause and the voice continued, "They'll all die a painful death on the way back to the palace; one by one."

That essentially confirmed the 'powerful deity' theory, along with gifting Chenglei the knowledge that whichever of the gods this was, he was _vengeful._

A good thing to know, really: if he could ever find out the identity of this god, he would have a clear idea of which one he should make time to properly worship and respect. The rest were clearly secondary to one who so favored him as to bring him back to life and curse those that'd ended him with torturous deaths.

"This is gonna be a lot less painful than the other stuff," the god informed him, almost casually. "It'll still hurt, but after everything else, it shouldn't be too much to bear."

The statement was perfectly correct: it _did_ hurt some when those warm artist's hands began reshaping his face, putting pressure in strategic spots, smoothing others, and healing the minuscule cuts that were there, but after suffering death and the rest of his mending, it felt as if nothing more than an inconsequential papercut.

For what seemed like hours, the god restored his face: unbreaking his jaw, cracking his nose back into the _precise_, elegant arch it'd been, undoing his fat lip and even regrowing his teeth; making them white and perfect the way they'd always been.

_Now_ Chenglei was beginning to feel himself; strong and powerful and the very _picture_ of masculine beauty.

The rest of his face properly mended, now came the part the warrior had been waiting for: his eyes. With one blinded indefinitely and the other swollen shut, it was _impossible_ to see anything, much less where he was or just _who_ it was repairing him.

He wanted no more than to _see_ the face of the deity that had seen fit to give him his life back for whatever reason he had chosen to do so.

The moment came and the tips of slender fingers pressed lightly to the tender flesh of his bruised and blackened right eye. Almost instantly, the swelling receded and the warrior regained the ability to see with at least _one_ of his eyes…

…if he could actually _open_ it, that is. The very moment he attempted to open his eye and get a look at the god, a thumb swiped lightly over the lid and just like that, it was sealed shut in such a way that the man could not lift it.

Chenglei cursed silently; he only wanted to see the god's face, after all! But he held his tongue and remained patient.

After all, he still had another eye to be given sight.

One hand gently cupped his chin and tilted it upwards ever so slightly, giving the deity better view and access to the man's face.

As expected, the other descended to his left eye, the finger and thumb pulling back the lid and holding it open. Chenglei could see nothing; that eye was quite soundly blindly by the butterfly sword. He felt warm breath, cool to the sensitive flesh, blowing upon his eye.

His sight was returned to him immediately.

As quick as he was able, Chenglei's vision focused on the being behind the hand that still hovered before his eye, attempting to take in the sight, but to no true avail: this eye, too, was quickly closed and sealed shut like its twin.

All the man had been able to see was an overwhelming amount of pure _white_ and a shock of red; the same shade as one might find in a sunset.

"Don't worry about _me,"_ the god chastised him. _"Nobody_ knows about me anyways, so even if you _did_ find out who I was," a thrill of shock tore through the warrior at the blatant mind-reading, "it wouldn't do you any good: there _is_ no proper way to worship me."

The man didn't have much time to think on what a _pity_ that was that a clearly powerful god (powerful enough to resurrect and heal and curse mortals) was completely unknown because the god's hands were on his skull, threading through his _painfully_ short hair.

The long fingers grasped what they were able and _yanked_. There was no vicious tug upon his scalp as he'd expected, and the pull was actually…_lengthening_ his hair! Oh, thank you, merciful god!

Within moments, his gorgeous and lustrous mane of thick black hair was returned to him and Chenglei almost felt he could cry for his delight at the very thought: his pride and joy, _his_ once more!

The warrior felt himself removed from the warm lap that he'd grown accustomed to and hefted into a kneeling position directly before the god. His eyes still refused to open.

"Good as new," said god happily declared, obviously proud of his handiwork. "Now's the time I'll be sending you back to your life, but first…" Though he could not see, he could _feel_ the deity move closer; could feel the hot breath ghosting along his cheeks.

Chenglei could honestly say he was stunned when the god's lips descended to his own in a warm, chaste kiss that made the warrior very much want to have control of his body to kiss back or to open his eyes and _see_ the one that kissed him with such loving intention; _anything_ but simply sitting there motionlessly!

Unfortunately, he was given no choice and the god slowly but surely pulled away, still holding the man in his kneeling position.

"Congratulations, Chenglei Long," the deity practically purred in a soft, heated tone; one that managed to convey youth and wisdom, love and lust all in one go, "you have the favor of a god…"

And for the warrior, consciousness again became a thing of the past.

--

**A/N: Behold! Chapter the Second! \O/**


	3. Discovery

**By a God's Grace  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Slight sexual implication, homosexuality, and excessive Chase Young fanservice.**

**--  
**

When Chenglei next awoke, it was to the familiar noises of birds chirping and the feeling of sun on his face.

His nose wrinkled and a groan escaped his lips; he'd been having _such_ a good dream, too! Making love to a beautiful creature with eyes like rubies and skin like snow…

Golden eyes snapped open and the warrior sat bolt upright as he remembered: he had _died._

He glanced down at himself, heart thundering in his chest only to see…

…Nothing.

There were no wounds, no limbs broken and twisted at strange angles, not even any part of him bearing so much as a scar!

Surely, he had not imagined the battle with the soldiers, though, for his clothes were ripped and torn where he'd remembered swords and knives piercing his body, and he was stained all over with blood despite the fact that there were no wounds.

Chenglei stood slowly, inspecting his surroundings. He was in a forest, likely the one to the edge of the road he'd been ambushed on. The trees were thin where he stood, so it would make sense that the soldiers that had attacked him had simply kicked him into the woods.

Disrespectful bastards, the warrior growled to himself. They likely hadn't even given him proper funeral rites!

Then and there the man vowed revenge upon Jingguo, the one who had invariably sent them. He would _not_ allow such a thing to go unpunished now that he quite literally had a new lease on life.

Chenglei turned his head in the direction of where the path should be and winced as his neck cracked obnoxiously. Come to think of it, his entire _body_ felt stiff and a bit uncomfortable; as if he'd never used it before.

_That_ would not do: what if he were to be attacked again? He would be at _quite_ the disadvantage were his movements not fluid and his body not limber.

The warrior sighed and stripped off his tattered and blood-stained top, allowing the upper garment to fall upon the grass where it may.

It wasn't as if the clothing had any real _value_ anymore, what with all the rips and tears and stains in it.

Regardless of this fact, Chenglei began moving in a series of controlled, elegant motions. The man led himself through several katas that allowed his body to loosen appropriately, exercising his stiff and unresponsive muscles until they responded quickly again; his each move coming out perfect or very close to it.

He was forced to pause at one point, feeling for certain that he was being watched. His other senses screamed differently: he could not hear anyone or anything nearby, could not see or sense anything but trees in the surrounding area. He did not even experience that tense feeling of eyes burning holes into the back of one's head that came from being physically stared it.

Still, he was sure he was being watched.

After a moment of standing perfectly still, determining that, at the very least, there was no _physical_ presence near him, he bent to the ground to retrieve his spear (funny how it was in one piece; he'd have sworn blind the soldiers had snapped it in two) before continuing in his exercise; this time by practice with his preferred weapon.

He handled the spear with perfect mastery as he did battle with imaginary foes; thrusting it through bodies, twirling it in a clean slice of decapitation, and batting away others with the wood instead of the blade.

The strange feeling of being watched was still there as he did so, continuing even as he smoothly came out of his final kata with a deep, calming breath.

His golden skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat from his exertions and spear still in hand, Chenglei recalled that there was a stream nearby. Perhaps he should head there: he _was_ thirsty, and it would give him an opportunity to clean what filth he could off of his clothing.

He gathered his shirt from the ground and walked what was at best a mile before he found the small river. A deer that'd been lapping at the water there glanced up at his arrival and fled post haste.

He ignored the animal and knelt at the riverbank, inspecting the water. It was a _bit_ murkier than he would've liked, but his throat was parched and it was certainly better than nothing. The man cupped his palms and dipped them into the stream before bringing them up to his mouth, swallowing the cool and relatively clean water gratefully.

Even as his Adam's apple bobbed in the motion of swallowing, the 'watched' feeling intensified ever so slightly.

Chenglei purposefully ignored it and turned his attention to the cloth in his hand. With no other tools present, he dipped his clothing into the stream and found an adequate stone with which to scour at the dirt and blood stains as best he could.

The Feeling was augmented as his biceps and triceps were worked and flexed in the motion of scrubbing.

Eventually, the shirt was brought to a state of cleanliness that was _somewhat_ decent. The stains were still largely present in it, but should he scrub at the cloth any longer or with any more force, the fabric would tear, and there were _certainly_ enough rips in it already.

The warrior pulled his shirt from the stream and set the stone back upon the riverbank. Having worked in the sun for a good deal of time and _after_ having gone through a series of exercises, he was understandably hot.

He tipped his head back and raised the soaked clothing above his head, deftly squeezing the water from it in one decisive twist of his hands. The cool liquid spilled down onto his face; drizzling across his broad, muscular shoulders and the occasional drop catching at his collarbone before sliding down his chest.

The 'watched' feeling spiked abruptly and seemingly from nowhere, a voice spoke.

_Long,_ it said, practically whimpering, _you're killing me._

Instinctively, Chenglei's head shot back upright, his eyes darting to and fro to find who'd spoken.

There was absolutely no one around.

_Don't bother looking,_ the voice said, sounding _very_ familiar now that the man listened harder. _I'm not physically here. But…**jeez,** you are killing me up here._

He recognized the speaker now. "You…" he began, "you are the god…the one that saved me."

_That'd be me,_ it agreed. _I decided to check up on you; make sure wolves wouldn't find and eat you before you woke up. I wasn't expecting the show._

Chenglei knew precisely what the unseen god meant by 'show' and he grinned sharply. "I was unaware you were watching," he said. "Had I known you were, I'd have been _far_ more interesting for you, O Gracious One."

The voice chuckled, amused by the warrior's coy comment. _Don't tempt me,_ the god nonetheless warned. _Sex with a god can kill you._

"I have been dead once," the warrior protested, "and you were kind enough to offer me your favor and your kiss. I would not mind dying a second time to have one so beautiful."

_Beautiful?_ the deity wondered. _How can you call me beautiful? You've never seen my face. For all you know, I'm a bird-god with a beaked face._

"That you used that as an example tells me otherwise," Chenglei pointed out. "And there is more to beauty than the physical. Must I see your face to think you beautiful? Can I not find your power or your grace beautiful? Even if you are ugly in the physical sense, you were still benevolent enough to return my life to me _without_ leaving me crippled or disfigured; for that, I find you beautiful."

_…That's…an insightful answer,_ the god conceded. _Still…now that I know you're safe, I won't be checking up on you anymore. You have a life to live, and you can't exactly do that if you know I'm watching you._

Golden eyes widened. "Stop checking up on…you mean, you never intend to speak with me again?"

_Nothing personal,_ the voice promised sincerely, _but it wouldn't be very good for you to have me talking to you all the time. People would think you were talking to yourself, and the classic, 'I'm convening with a god' excuse wouldn't work: no one even knows I exist. They'd think you were a complete loon._

Chenglei unwillingly saw the logic in such a statement, and besides, he had never before heard tell of heavenly deities interfering in mortal affairs to such an extent: it just didn't seem to be done. "Wait," he protested, a resigned note in his voice, "if you must cease contact with me…at least tell me your name."

The god chuckled softly, and when he stopped, he said, _I already told you._ The voice and the mystical presence he'd felt watching him were then quite abruptly gone.

The warrior knelt by the side of the stream for a good while, wracking his brain for information.

_Had_ the god told him his name? If so, when? Certainly not during this particular encounter. When the deity was healing him, perhaps? He didn't _think_ he'd been told anything of that sort, but it was conceivable that the god had said it when he was deafened by pain in being repaired. If so, that was a particularly cruel thing of the god to do.

And then Chenglei recalled the dream he'd had just before regaining consciousness.

He had been making love to someone…he could not recall their face or their body any longer, but he remembered quite clearly that their eyes had been red and their skin had been white, colors he remembered from the very tiny peek he had gotten at the god when his blinded eye had been given back sight. In his dream…he had asked his partner their name…

Golden eyes wide as he remembered, Chenglei whispered to no one, "Jianyu…"

--

**A/N: Chapter 3 is _definitely_ a chapter of fanservice; so much so, I actually put it in the warnings! :D**


	4. Death, Again

**By a God's Grace  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Violence, gore, sexual situations, language, and brief mentions of homosexuality.**

**--**

It had taken a bit of time, but Chenglei had at last arrived at the small village of Shanqing, hungry, tired, and in desperate need of new clothing.

Of course, it wasn't long until he began drawing attention; aside from the fact that he was quite handsome and could _always_ draw the eyes of females, he was a famed warrior made legend across the land of China for his skill.

It was _natural_ to receive attention.

Once a small group of women had bravely come up to him and ascertained the fact that he was, indeed, Chenglei Long, word spread quick through the tiny settlement which had never dared to _dream_ that it would be subject to a visit from someone as famed as he.

The warrior had very little trouble getting what he wanted anyways, but the inhabitants of Shanqing were a kind and munificent people. As blessed as they felt with his presence, they allowed him access to whatever he asked despite the fact that he had no money to his name (likely, Jingguo had instructed his men to take back the reward he'd given, for Chenglei had awakened with it gone).

He was allowed to replace his tattered and dirty clothing, given a free meal, promised a room at the local inn for the night at no cost, and was currently relaxing in the company of at least a dozen lovely women as he sipped an equally lovely, delicate wine in a tavern.

Chenglei could honestly say he was enjoying himself despite the mindless chatter of the hostelry.

The wine was good, which was an immediate plus, and he was steadily becoming drunk. Not sloppy drunk, no: the warrior could not _afford_ to be sloppy drunk and so had developed the ability to hold his liquor. Currently, though he had ingested enough alcohol to make a lesser man quite tipsy, Chenglei was only experiencing a slight, pleasant buzz.

Aside from the wine, the women surrounding him were quite beautiful and a few of them even had brains in their heads, making conversation with them as enjoyable as the alcohol.

This calm revelry was really quite nice in comparison to the pain and blood the man had been put through lately.

This thinking, of course, only reminded him of those events and, looking at the pretty females doing their very best to chat him up and win the privilege of a night in his bed, Chenglei felt…dissatisfied.

Certainly, they were lovely young women, some of them fairly intelligent. Silky-looking dark hair, eyes of varying shades of cocoa, and flawless complexions without so much as a single blemish.

They simply weren't what the warrior _wanted._

Good gods, did Chenglei hope none of them asked his reasons when, at the end of the night, he refused to lie with any of them. He simply _could not_ say that he would rather be bedding a god in their stead; a god of reds and whites who went by the name of Jianyu.

In the god's own words, they would think him a complete loon.

So, the warrior did his best to put it out of his mind by swallowing another mouthful of wine and inquiring of the girl named Qiuyue at his left when her father had established this tavern in the first place.

Distracted as he was, the man did not notice the emerald eyes staring at him in shock from across the room.

Wuya, the untrusting wench she was, had secretly followed the band of soldiers sent to murder the warrior that had shunned her. She had watched with her very own eyes as the battle took place and she had seen the man fall prey to his wounds and die. Satisfied with her knowledge of Long's death (there had been blood _everywhere_, after all, and his form had not been moving when tossed into the forest for wild animals to pick at), she had delayed her return to the palace in favor of a small retreat to Shanqing.

The place _was_ known for the high quality of its clothing if not the most up-to-date styles, and she had been looking for something more comfortable to sleep in.

Imagine her surprise to be minding her own business on her third day here and then hear rumors of Chenglei Long, a man she had seen _killed_ on her indirect orders not days before, drinking with several young ladies at the local hostelry!

She had naturally assumed it was an imposter, someone pretending to be the late warrior in order to receive the perks that came with being a living legend. Still…one could never be too careful. Wuya dutifully headed to the tavern to investigate the rumors.

It was an even _greater_ surprise than the first to find that it _wasn't_ some imposter and truly _was_ Chenglei Long, in the flesh.

_No one_ could impersonate those sun-like eyes so perfectly.

What was truly shocking about his being alive, at least to Wuya, was that he seemed healthy! He sat perfectly upright, as if his spine had not been cracked. He held his wine in large, long-fingered hands not broken and mangled. And most notably, his face: the strong set of his jaw, the perfectly-straight nose, the full smile of straight white teeth…all were _present and undamaged_ when the Emperor's favorite had seen them all ruined.

Even if he had _somehow_ managed to live through the trauma of his wounds and the _immense_ loss of blood, there was _no way_ that the warrior could be up and walking around uncrippled and with a face like his a mere three days after being so thoroughly beaten.

Wuya smelled something fishy about all this, and she didn't like it.

She left the tavern quickly and quietly (thankfully not yet having been seen). This would not do…no, no, no, this would not do _at all._

Chenglei was not a stupid man: _surely_ he knew that Emperor Jingguo had sent those men to kill him. She did not know or care just _how_ it was that the man was alive, but she knew that he was and what he would surely do because of that fact: he would go after Jingguo for revenge.

If he did that, one of two scenarios could happen. One, Chenglei would kill the Emperor and one of his sons would take over in his place. None of Jingguo's sons had ever truly favored the redheaded concubine, and she would be forced to leave the palace and live a normal life.

_That_ was unacceptable: Wuya could not _live_ outside of luxury.

The other scenario was decidedly more unpleasant than the first, and Long would still kill the Emperor, but the ruler would try to foist the blame onto _her,_ as she was the one who had coaxed him to send the soldiers in the first place. Not only would her source of money and jewelry and material things be gone, Wuya would be next on the warrior's list of people to kill!

No…no, she would have to end this before it began.

Wuya resolved to _personally_ end Chenglei Long's life _again_ before the night was done.

Unbeknownst to many, the Emperor's favorite was a practitioner of dark witchcraft. It was because of this that she was the Emperor's favorite: she cast spells to steal luck from unsuspecting people and transfer it to him; hex his enemies to be accident-prone, anything within the limits of her minuscule bit of mystic power.

She would call upon it now to cast an illusion over herself, becoming a woman which Chenglei Long would desire upon sight.

As the magic worked its way through her, she found herself becoming younger, a beautiful girl in her prime: her wrinkles smoothed away, her breasts perked from where they sagged, and the bit of flab about her waist due to her age disappeared. Her dusky, brown skin bleached unexpectedly, and with wide eyes she watched the flesh of her hand become a silvery white akin to death.

The magic stopped its transformation, and the witch moved to the nearest reflective surface, a puddle on the ground, to see precisely what had been done to her. Her eyes were still green, as they were before; eyes were the window to the soul, after all, and no magic could change them. Hair, on the other hand, _could_ be changed, and yet hers had not: it was still long and red, just as it'd been before. Her skin was, as she'd expected, that pristine shade of white all over; not simply her hands, and proved an odd contrast to her bright hair.

Not all that concerned with it, the woman simply shrugged it off as the warrior having extremely odd tastes and strutting out from the alleyway from whence she had cast her spell.

She had much to strut about: though her coloring was strange and, in her opinion, ugly, _she_ was a beautiful young woman again with a _beautiful_ young body.

Wuya was already dressed in fine clothing more befitting of girls younger than she had been before her enchantment and so had no need to search for a new wardrobe with which to make her look better.

She was already looking positively enchanting if the several dozen heads she turned simply _on the way_ to the tavern were any indication.

This time entering the hostelry, she was not so much as _initially_ ignored: all heads shot to her the moment she stepped inside, her gait dainty and feminine and her face, body, and beguiling grin all _radiating_ beauty.

Chenglei took immediate notice of her.

She was admittedly female, but her _coloring…_ Reds and whites, like the god he had been internally lusting over all night, Jianyu…

Was this woman a gift from him? A physical and human replacement for the unattainable, celestial form he wanted? The god _had_ sent him that dream, so it was conceivable.

Whether it was a god-send or not, her skin and hair were the right color; her eyes were a strange green, but certainly the warrior was intoxicated enough to pretend they were the blood-red he wanted to see and tolerate it.

Without a word, Chenglei gestured for the two girls at his right to leave, giving a hot, inviting stare to the pale new-comer.

Wuya smiled demurely and approached, sitting beside the man in the place offered her even as she cackled darkly in her mind. "Thank you for the seat," she spoke sweetly.

"Think not of it," the man dismissed, looking her supple, young body up and down appreciatively. "It is merely a matter of courtesy for a lovely young lady such as yourself."

Wuya giggled coyly, crossing one newly-shapely leg over the other. "My name is Yan," she easily lied.

The warrior offered her a winning smile, the type that he knew firsthand to make females wet in moments. "Voluptuous…" he hummed upon hearing the name. "It fits you."

The witch smiled back, laying a hand upon the man's muscular chest. "You are the famed Chenglei Long, are you not?" she inquired, already knowing the answer.

"I am," Chenglei confirmed. "Clearly, you have heard of me…?"

"Who hasn't?" she wondered, leaning into the warrior's body and causing her full, perky breasts to lay heavily upon his arm. "You are a legend for both your power and your beauty…it would do a woman honor to share a bed with you."

"Would you like to?" the man wondered, heat in his tone and lust in his gorgeous, golden eyes.

Wuya practically purred: not only would she have the opportunity to end his life for scorning her, but the opportunity to show him how wrong he'd been in doing so for shunning her in the first place! Not to mention she would get a taste of the warrior's rumoredly magnificent phallus…

"I would _love_ to," she assured and offered no protest as she was led from the tavern by a strong arm in her own, the other women giving unheeded pleas to stay with _them_ and drink a bit more.

Chenglei led 'Yan' to the local inn where he had been promised a night's stay, entirely unaware of the dark intentions his soon-to-be partner had for him.

Within moments of being given a room, the warrior pounced upon the woman, loosening his trousers and hiking up her skirts instead of undressing her so as to slake his lust as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Despite the visual similarity, this Yan was no Jianyu and Chenglei would not spend any further minute in her presence after he had finished with her.

Soon, the pair was fully engrossed in the dirty, animalistic motions of sex; thrusting, panting, groaning, and sweating as the both of them strived for orgasm.

Wuya, of course, was enjoying herself immensely: every last rumor of Long's sexual prowess was true and it was a joy not to have to _fake_ her noises of pleasure for once. Besides that, the soft, nearly inaudible moans coming from the man _surely_ indicated his pleasure; how _foolish_ he would feel had he known what he had been missing when he rejected her first offer!

Chenglei thought himself particularly lucky that, after as much time as they had spent in coitus, his partner had not yet come as he had thought she would've; it was taking him _much_ longer than usual to reach his peak, even with Yan's beauty. She was not very good at this, the warrior realized, but he simply ignored it and closed his eyes, blocking out the woman's green ones. He pretended he was making love to someone who _wasn't_ terrible in sexual matters; someone with _red_ eyes and a _male_ body that felt unendingly _perfect…_

"Chenglei…" 'Yan' softly moaned.

The warrior visibly flinched, his eyes opening to stare down the woman whose body he currently made use of. Her very _female_ voice was ruining his fantasy and, annoyed, he demanded, _"What?"_

The redhead curled her arms about her partner, her silken sleeves ruining themselves against sweat-drenched flesh. She brought painted lips to the man's ear and murmured, "You should be dead right now."

This was a red flag if Chenglei had ever heard one. Though he kept thrusting inside of the woman, he warily inquired, "And why is that?"

'Yan' tightened her hold on the warrior. "Because I told Jingguo to have you killed…" she whispered.

The man's entire body tensed and he went to throw the woman off of him, but it was too late: a concealed knife was deftly slipped out of her sleeve and forcefully thrust into his back.

Chenglei grunted in pain at the stab and this time _did_ manage to shove the female away.

As he did so, her mystical disguise began to melt away, revealing dark skin and the body of a middle-aged woman: the Emperor's favorite, Wuya.

The warrior's golden eyes grew wide as he saw her true face, even as pain shuddered through his body and his blood seeped out of him from the dagger embedded in his back. "You…" he growled, fury in his voice.

"Yes, me," Wuya cackled at him. "I don't know how you managed to live through the first attack, but you won't be getting out of _this_ one, Long: you _will_ die for refusing me!"

_"That_ is what this is about?!" he roared. "You kill me because I've no interest in you?!"

"All I wanted was one night with you," she tartly retorted, "and you wouldn't even give _that,_ you bastard! If I can't enjoy you, _no one_ will." She grinned cruelly, informing, "I'm selfish like that."

Chenglei merely seethed at her, his knees going weak and causing him to collapse into a subservient kneel before the witch.

The Emperor's favorite laughed at him. "How the mighty have fallen," she mocked. "Oh, and so you know, after you die _this_ time, I'll see to it that your corpse gets plenty of _use."_ For a moment, the man was unsure of what she meant by such a statement, and then she added, "After all, I haven't come yet…"

This was nothing short of an outrage to the warrior and he growled, low and menacing in his throat. "Traitorous bitch," he snarled, "brazen _whore!"_

To Wuya's shock, Chenglei managed to force himself to his feet, launching at her with a near inhuman scream of rage.

She had not been prepared with a second concealed dagger for any retaliation.

In one swift and practiced motion, the man caught her by the head and gave a sharp twist, deftly cracking her neck and killing her.

Chenglei watched with a dark scowl as her lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud, head twisted at a very wrong angle.

His vision darkened at the edges and, looking behind him, he saw a good deal of blood upon the floor; blood he knew to be his.

There was far too much for him to be able to survive this.

At the very least, he did not want to die with the treacherous harlot in the room with him and so he bent, lifting her body over his shoulder and hefting it to the window, where he dropped her three stories to hit the ground with a satisfying crack.

If she hadn't been dead before, the warrior took comfort in the fact that she was now.

His breathing growing labored, Chenglei internally cursed himself for falling _right_ into the witch's trap.

The man's vision blurred again, and as he reached behind him and at last plucked the knife from his back, the world spun and he found himself on the floor; the blade slipping out of his hand and clattering down obnoxiously loud to his ears.

Acutely aware of the slowing beats of his heart pumping more and more blood _out_ of his body, the nonsensical thought that Jianyu's efforts in resurrecting him were all for naught passed through his mind.

He let out one shuddering and slightly blood-choked breath which he did not inhale again and for the second time in his life, Chenglei Long died.

--

**A/N: This kind of thing just keeps happening to him, doesn't it? U.U**


	5. A Different Kind of Rebirth

**By a God's Grace  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**  
Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

**Warnings: Language and homosexuality, pretty much.**

**--**

Chenglei felt his consciousness haze back into being an indeterminable amount of time later.

He was not alive: he could not feel his heart beating and the flow of blood through his body, which had in life kept him warm, had…

This seemed oddly familiar.

Even as he thought it, feeling rippled through his body, his heart beginning to beat again and his lungs expanding and contracting properly with breath. There was a mildly annoying throb in his torso emanating from his back, but compared to the last time his body had come back from death, it was negligible.

…from death…

Immediately, Chenglei's eyes opened and he sat upright, mildly startled that he could actually do so. Hadn't Jianyu kept him frozen last time; prevented him from seeing anything?

_Jianyu!_

The warrior quickly inspected the surroundings, looking for the god that had surely rescued him from death a second time. There was nothing, wherever this was: just…an empty white space, no visible _anything_ for as far as the eye could see. He wasn't even quite sure what it was he was sitting upon.

In this white space, there was no white of the variety _he_ wanted to see; no Jianyu-white.

From seemingly nowhere, a hand settled firmly on his shoulder, another at the base of his spine. Chenglei tried desperately to turn around, but found himself stuck in a forward-facing sitting position.

"We've really gotta stop meeting like this," a young male voice spoke just at his ear, a digit sliding into his most recent death-wound and healing it the same way as it had all the others before it. "As I recall it, you were _just_ here."

The mystic hold loosened and Chenglei was allowed movement. Instantly, he about-faced in a desperate attempt to see his twice-savior's face before the deity stopped him.

The deity did not, in fact, attempt to.

The mortal man found himself gaping in awe at the creature he now looked upon. White skin, red hair and eyes, just as he remembered, but he had only seen those in a watered down dream; an illusion of a god.

Here before him now was the actual _god,_ in the flesh. White skin was not simply white, it was a glowing shade of ivory; red eyes were not simply red, they were the color of glittering rubies; red hair was not the human interpretation of red hair, either, and was a brilliant shade of red and orange mixed together, the bright type of color one would expect to see in a sunset.

The rest of the god was just as pleasing to look upon. His body was lean and slender even hidden in ample robes of black and white that pleasingly accentuated his coloring. His face was that of a young man, aged perhaps eighteen or nineteen; the very verge of adulthood, and his features reflected his youth even as the god smirked teasingly at his current companion.

"Well?" he prompted in his pleasant voice. "Am I everything you thought I would be?"

It was all Chenglei could do to breathe, "More…"

The deity chuckled in amusement and the warrior felt a gentle wave of pleasure sweep through him at the sweet and chiming sound. "I'm glad I lived up to your expectations, then," the god spoke. "And now that you've managed to break the all-time record for number of deaths, I think you deserve some reward."

Chenglei got his hopes up for nothing, and the deity did not, in fact, begin taking off his clothing.

Instead, he offered, "Ask as many questions of me as you want, and I'll answer every last one of them for you; even the big life questions that everybody's so baffled about."

The first question to cross the man's lips was, "Your name _is_ Jianyu, isn't it?"

The god nodded in the affirmative. "So it is," Jianyu assured. "I'm glad you remembered it."

This little fact ascertained, Chenglei demanded, "What are you? Exactly, I mean?"

"Exactly?" Jianyu echoed before informing, "I'm a god; the god of universal balance, to be exact."

_That_ was a fairly significant thing to be put in charge of the mortal mused, which brought up the question of, "What exactly does _that_ entail?"

"Well, to start, I created the universe," the deity shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "I made the gods that all the mortals _do_ know, and aside from that, pretty much all I do is tweak things a little bit; so the world stays in order."

"Tweak things?" Chenglei repeated, curious.

"The world is founded on balance," Jianyu answered. "If things weren't balanced, there'd be complete chaos, and while that's sometimes fun, it gets boring if things are chaotic _all_ the time. I manipulate things just a little bit so that they swing from good to bad: a war breaks out, a peace treaty is written up. The elderly die, babies are born. People dedicate their lives to saving, others dedicate their lives to destroying. It may seem like it's random," the god said, "but in reality, it's all a very delicate balance."

Frowning at this new information, the warrior inquired, "If you do as much as you say and play so big a part in the scheme of things, why is it that you are unknown and unworshipped among mortals?"

"A little bit of this and a little bit of that," the deity replied noncommittally. "I created the gods that you know with a good deal less power than me; they created your race with a good deal less power than them. They know how humans look upon them, as all-powerful entities that can't be topped. I top them by a long-shot. They've kept me from human-knowledge because they don't want me swooping in and stealing their thunder: if mankind knows there's a god more powerful than the gods, they'll worship me instead and ignore the others completely because they won't fear their 'divine wrath.' Anything my creations do to their own creations, I can undo in a second."

"So…you allow yourself to remain unknown to prevent the chaos that would come from that scenario?" Chenglei deduced.

"Partly," Jianyu shrugged. "The other half of it is that it would be a pain in the ass for the lesser gods to be smiting people angrily all the time and me having to bring them all back to life just to maintain order."

The man laughed. "I suppose that _would_ be quite frustrating," he conceded. "What _of_ the lesser gods? Why did you create them in the first place?"

"The honest answer or the bullshit answer I'd give anyone else?" the deity wondered for clarification. Seeming to dismiss it, he answered, "The bullshit answer is that I was lonely and wanted something akin to children to keep me company."

"And the honest answer?" Chenglei prompted.

"I was bored and wanted to play…well, play _god,_ I guess. I'm not your typical, 'right is better than wrong' god," Jianyu pointed out. "In fact, I personally think 'wrong' is a lot more fun. But being the god of universal balance, and all, I can still realize the benefits of 'right,' or if not the benefits, the _necessity_ of it. So, yeah, I'll stick with my own personal preference for awhile and let horrible, terrible, _heinous_ things happen down on Earth without helping, but I'll throw in a century or so of good things happening; it all works out so long as it's balanced appropriately, so I can afford to be kind of a prick."

"If you're as much of a 'prick' as you say," the warrior demanded, using the god's own terminology, "then why is it that you've been so benevolent to me? Surely, the universe is slightly unbalanced now that I've died and been resurrected _twice."_

"It _is_ unbalanced right now, but I'm nice to you because I like you," Jianyu smirked. "See how that works? Selfish prick."

"Why do you like _me,_ then?" Chenglei inquired. "I'm a mere mortal, and you a god: what appeal can I have to you?"

"The fact of your looks is one thing," the deity admitted. "You've got a god's beauty trapped in that mortal body of yours and don't think I haven't noticed it."

"If I am as beautiful as a god, then why have lesser gods not taken an interest in me?" the mortal wondered, his logic sound in questioning this little fact.

"Here comes the 'selfish prick' part again," Jianyu warned. "It's another case where I disregarded my job to keep the universe balanced and manipulated my creations so that they wouldn't find you attractive or interesting. If I hadn't, I have no doubt that by the time you hit twelve, several hundred gods and goddesses would be fighting over you."

"That's quite the ego-booster," Chenglei grinned. "Why else do you like me? Aside from my looks."

"Your drive to succeeded, definitely." The god smiled, as if pleased. "Everything you achieved: your strength, your skill, your (nearly) undefeated record? That didn't come from me or any other god's favor. You became one of China's greatest warriors all on your own, something all the _other_ 'greatest warriors' needed divine intervention to get. That's something else, Chenglei."

The man's ego was further boosted by the honest statement and he entreated, "What else?"

"Well, it's pretty rare to find a mortal man perfectly compatible with a god," Jianyu informed.

This gave the warrior pause, and he inquired, "Perfectly compatible?"

"Mmhmm," the deity nodded, his expression serious. "It hardly happens once every million or so years that a human is born with a personality fit for a god or goddess; the type of person that could be romantically-linked with an immortal being and _not_ get boring after a couple hundred years. I've seen it happen to lesser gods," Jianyu said, "but a human perfect for _me_ never came along…until now, of course."

"And…that is me?" Chenglei wondered, eyes wide. _"I_ am your compatible mortal?"

"Right on the first try," the god assured. "You're the only human on Earth currently or for _at least_ another several million years to be perfect for me. You'd never get boring to me, I'd never feel a need to bed another, and I'd never fall out of love with you: _perfect."_

"So…what?" the man demanded. "You are going to hold me prisoner here until love blossoms and I become your willing sex-slave?" In all honesty, the warrior had no qualms about being a sex-slave to one as beautiful as Jianyu; it was the part about his wishes not even being _considered_ that had his hackles rising.

"No," Jianyu immediately denied. "I wouldn't do that. What I _am_ doing is offering you a choice."

Chenglei inhaled sharply as the white-skinned deity raised one hand and an illusion appeared perched atop his palm.

He saw a smaller version of himself coming to on the floor of the inn in Shanqing. "I could give you your life back again," Jianyu informed. "You would wake up again, totally healed as if nothing had ever happened and live your life however you want to." The man watched the smaller him go about various things; fighting foes, loving various men and women, and just in general _living._ "But," the god interjected, causing the illusionary-Chenglei to appear in Jingguo's throne room, attacking and killing the Emperor, "you'd have to be a lot more careful with what you do, because I won't be saving your life anymore." Emperor dead, the tiny guards rushed the tiny warrior and ended _his_ life, as well, and a small cremation was performed: no resurrection here.

"And my other option?" Chenglei queried.

Jianyu closed his hand, dispelling the first illusion even as he opened its twin and called forth another.

In it, the little Chenglei sat with a little Jianyu upon clouds, dressed in fine clothing and enjoying delicious looking food and drink. "Your other option is that I make you a god like me," the deity said. "We would live for eternity together, all-powerful and in love, doing as we pleased." The small version of the warrior was atop the minuscule illusion of the god, kissing lovingly at his collarbone as he found joy and pleasure in ever so slowly peeling his beloved out of his clothing; taking the time to thoroughly explore a body he'd explored thoroughly many, many times already and had failed to grow tired of. "You could have your revenge on Jingguo, as well; that is, if you wanted." Chenglei saw the small version of himself grinning an evil grin, holding the little Jianyu to him like a wicked king would his wicked queen as the stout and ugly Emperor was whipped again and again and again before the two of them, his wounds healing the moment they were inflicted, but sparing none of the pain.

"So," Jianyu firmly spoke, dispelling the second illusion like he did the first and folding both hands together in his lap, "it's your choice, Chenglei Long: which do you choose?"

The man was silent for a very long moment. "I choose…" he said eventually, _"not_ to be a complete fool. I choose a life with you, Jianyu."

The god smiled brightly, ruby eyes glimmering happily, and the yet-mortal man felt that gentle pleasure sweep through him once more; putting his inner-self at complete and utter peace.

"Then you'll _have_ a life with me, Chenglei," he promised, reaching out to lay those warm, artistic hands on the warrior's shoulders. "And just so you know, this won't hurt a bit…"

Power and life and _eternity_ flooded through the human's body in a rush, washing away his every weakness and mortality, and with a deep, calming breath, Chenglei Long allowed himself to be reborn.

--

**A/N: The next chapter will be the last. :)**


	6. An Ending Fit for a God

**By a God's Grace  
**

**By: CrystallicSky**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Xiaolin Showdown or any of its characters, nor do I make any profit or attempt to with the writing of this or any of my other pieces.**

Warnings: Gore/violence, sexual situations, homosexuality.

--

Chenglei sighed pleasantly as he lounged upon clouds that felt like a bed of silk, a languid smile upon his face. In his hand, he bore wine of a caliber that would destroy a mortal's every tastebud with one, sweet-sweet drop and not moments earlier, he had dined upon delicacies so celestial in their deliciousness that a normal man's stomach would have burst in the attempt to ingest one little morsel.

In becoming a god, his physical appearance had changed just a bit to match the raw power that now dwelled within him. His hair, once a pitch-like black in color was yet blacker, bearing a faint sheen of emerald in its darkness as it was pinned up by an ornate clip crafted from pure light; his beautiful tanned skin had become an infinitely more gorgeous bronze that practically glowed in any illumination; and of course, his eyes that had glinted gold in his mortality now glimmered and gleamed like twin suns, a testament to his strength and status.

If he had been beautiful and handsome as a man, Chenglei was positively _stunning_ as a god.

Jianyu had given him identical power during the change, putting them on equal ground in terms of mystical energy. However, by matter of principle, the white-skinned god had not given him quite the same abilities, for if Chenglei were allowed the ability to manipulate the things Jianyu manipulated, the latter god's task of maintaining balance became all the harder to execute.

Instead, Chenglei had been made the god of entropy, the measure of increasing disorder in the universe. His job was essentially to coax Jianyu out of _his_ job: allow the older god to cause chaos on Earth as he often did but, as the millennia passed, to cajole him into balancing it out with less and less order later on.

Gradually, of course, the human race would fall into ruin and perhaps even the entire world would end, but with the power of the two combined gods, it would be mere child's play to create another Earth and do it all over again. It was a game that they were now engaged in; a playful tug of war between them that would never truly end.

With his newfound power as a god, Chenglei had immediately apprehended Jingguo from the world of the living and subjected him to the punishment Jianyu had shown him in his illusion, and for sending out the order to have the then-mortal warrior brutally killed, the former Emperor was tied to a stake and whipped for all eternity. The last son Jingguo had fathered in his time on Earth eventually took his place as Emperor, and young Omi proved to be a good and benevolent leader to the people of China.

The witch that had tempted Jingguo to do such a thing and then had taken matters into her own hands following the man's resurrection befell a similar fate as the Emperor to which she had been favorite. Chenglei had plucked Wuya from the depths of the hell she'd been banished to and inflicted a far worse punishment upon her: the newly-made god flung the woman into a volcano where she would burn alive in the lava in perpetuity; being unable to die or succumb to her burns.

He had gotten his vengeance upon the two people that had wronged him, and all thanks to Jianyu.

And speaking of Jianyu, Chenglei glanced beside him where the deity currently slept.

At first, Chenglei had expected it to take quite some time before their 'perfectly compatible' nature would kick in, but it happened almost instantly. Jianyu was the precise balance (no pun intended) of mischievous and logical to keep his interest peaked, and the older god was never, ever truly predictable in what he did. To Jianyu, Chenglei was the perfect measure of calm and serious to counteract his often-impulsive nature and the deity had told the younger god that he proved an excellent challenge in terms of getting him to loosen up every once in awhile.

It was _easy_ for them to love one another.

And Jianyu was _so_ beautiful, Chenglei thought as he watched his beloved sleep. Though he was centuries upon centuries old, his body had remained young; lovely in its youth and Jianyu currently lie upon his side, looking ever beautiful as he dozed. His face was relaxed in slumber, looking entirely peaceful and innocent in a way that sent affection coursing through the younger god' heart. Sunset hair was splayed haphazardly on white-white clouds and red eyes were sealed shut; thick, dark lashes fanned out upon pale cheeks.

So _beautiful…_

Chenglei could not help himself any longer. He willed the wine in his hand out of existence and bent to his lover's side, a hand on his arm as he slowly pressed a trail of kisses up a firm, white column of throat. "Jianyu…" he purred softly, gently. "Wake…wake so that I may have you…"

The white-skinned deity moaned quietly, his ruby eyes blinking slowly open. At first, he seemed completely unaware of where he was or what was happening, his mind too bogged down by slumber to protest as he was rolled onto his back and topped by a strong, male presence.

He soon realized just what was happening and who was above him, however, and he smiled wordlessly up at Chenglei in an unspoken invitation to take as he wished.

Chenglei did just that and slid open his lover's black and white robes as Jianyu reached up and pulled his clothing of dark green silk from his shoulders; exercising just a bit of his power to pluck the clip that he couldn't quite reach from the younger god's hair.

They kissed as they explored each other affectionately, hands touching, tongues playing, and bodies already moving ever so slightly.

When the moment came that they were both fully undressed and ready for each other, no preparation was necessary: Chenglei simply willed his beloved to be stretched and lubricated, and he was so.

The younger deity pressed himself inside of Jianyu to the musical cry of pleasure the other god made. As always, Jianyu felt exceedingly perfect to be inside of: hot, wet, tight, and _wonderful._

They made love together, certainly not for the first or last time; panting, thrusting, sweating, and moaning together as if two gods fused into one hedonistic deity, striving for completion.

It came soon enough, as it always did, and Chenglei reached a blissful, satisfying peak inside of his lover with a growl of pleasure on his lips and Jianyu with Chenglei's name on his.

The younger god pulled out of his elder with a soft grunt and moved to lay beside him on his back. Jianyu sidled right up to him, loving to be close to his partner, and lay his head on the once-mortal man's chest before drifting right back off to sleep with a satisfied smile on his face.

Chenglei held him there and allowed himself to be taken by slumber, as well, seeing absolutely nothing wrong with a languid midday nap upon clouds softer than silk.

For the first time ever, all was right in his world and Chenglei Long was truly happy.

--

**A/N: THE END! :D**


End file.
